


Love Is Such A Once In A Lifetime Thing

by Obviously_Sherlocked_Anya



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Confessions, Declarations Of Love, Fear of Rejection, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hugs, Kisses, M/M, Running Away, i apologise in advance, this is way too long, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obviously_Sherlocked_Anya/pseuds/Obviously_Sherlocked_Anya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex attempts to confess to John and Sherlock that he and Hamish are a couple, but Hamish finds it much too difficult, and runs off, in search of solitude and acceptance inside himself. He can't find it. He needs help from others, but cannot find the will to ask for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is Such A Once In A Lifetime Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to just be a Hamish/Alex ficlet of cuteness. I don't know where this monster came from. It got so sad, so quickly, too. I apologise profusely. Read with caution, Hamish-feels are in damn overdrive here.

Hamish gulped in copious breaths of air, his short, trimmed nails digging bluntly into his palm.

“Come on, Misha, you’ve got this. I’m right here. It’ll be all right.”

Hamish shook his head meekly, eyes boring into the hardwood of the steps leading to the Watson-Holmes flat.

“Lex, we should just go. They’re probably busy.”

“Misha, look at me, love, please,” Alex was grinning foolishly, which, simply put, melted Hamish’s heart into a warm pile of goo.

“Since when was the great Hamish Timothy Watson-Holmes afraid of his fathers?”

“Never...”

“Louder.”

“Never.”

“Louder, Misha.”

“Never!”

Hamish was giggling, his heart fluttering joyously—until the door creaked ajar.

“Hamish? Is that you?” called John’s cautious voice.

“Yeah, Papa, it’s me...”

Hamish felt a shift, and belatedly noted that he was being, quite literally, dragged up the steps by his ridiculous secret-boyfriend.

“Hello, sir! My name is Alex.”

Dammit, Alex, why must you have to talk to _everything that moves_.

“Hello, Alex. Are you one of Hamish’s friends?”

“Yes!” squeaked Hamish.

“No!” chimed Alex, in utter unison, unfortunately.

“Yeah, that’s totally not suspicious. Come on in, boys. We’ve just put the kettle on.”

Hamish shuffled into the flat, his cheeks spotted pink, the airy colour bright and cute, only forcing it a shade deeper, the more he pondered the embarrassment.

“Hamish, sweetheart, are you all right? You’re quite red.”

Hamish’s shoulders tensed, and he avoided every single one of their gazes, too discomfited to untangle his words from his breaths.

“Hamish?”

John’s voice, but Alex’s hand on his nape. The hairs rose, terrorized into submission to the fear.

“I-I think I...uh...”

Option One: Speaking.

Mission Status: Fucking failure.

Option Two: Running out of there as quick as moronically lanky legs would carry him.

Mission Status: The only one that will work. So, sod it and go, idiot.

Hamish wriggled out of their holds, and, with a minor stumble with the top step, he bustled out, barreling down the steps, and swinging round the door frame, into the open streets of London. He heard yelling for him, but he didn’t stop; he didn’t want to stop.

He didn’t know where his legs were directing him, but, as he so eloquently put it earlier, sod it. His mobile vibrated in his jacket pocket, but he disregarded every outside nuisance.

He found a little hill, void of all people and buildings and horrid noises. There was small stream, drooling over the pebbles littered throughout the wee bank. It made him smile. The wildflowers were blooming across the field, pinks mingling with yellows and blues with purples and God, it was lovely. He ambled around the hinting of forest, threading through the trees, searching out a resting place, for just a few hours. He need to sleep off his jumpy nerves, slathered in terror.

“Misha! Misha, please, tell me you’re here!”

Hamish didn’t answer; couldn’t, really. He skirted round a grand oak, and collapsed onto his arse, hugging his knees to his chest, and hanging his head between them, wishing to become invisible and small. He didn’t want to be found. It was hide and seek, with no winner.

“Misha, please!”

He balled his fists, his heart struggling to hold to his laments. He drew in a gasp of a breath to the litany of obscenities, spilling freely, and loudly, from Alex’s mouth. He’d never heard Alex cuss, or even attempt to, before. His heart twitched and screamed for the boy, but Hamish was frozen; soundless and still. Just as he wanted... Right?

The shuffle of footsteps, sometimes close, sometimes far, seeming to originate from all the corners surrounding Hamish. He felt overwhelmed. His eyes felt dry, but tears were pathetically dribbling from the corners, trailing over his plump cheeks. He scratched at his jeans. He felt cold.

“Ha—Hamish, oh God, love, you’re okay,” Sherlock, his brilliant Da. Of course he’d be the one to dig out Hamish’s location. He was carefully tugged towards the detective, and hugged until his lungs had no more air to squeeze out.

“D-Da...”

“Hamish, why’d you run off like that? Your papa is worried sick about you.”

“I-I just...” He still felt cold. Like a locked wall was keeping Sherlock’s warmth, one he always adored, from radiating onto him. He squirmed, needing to get away.

“No, no, none of that. Hamish, darling, what’s wrong?” Sherlock combed through Hamish’s curls, unruly and inky, a proud image of Sherlock’s. He sighed, involuntarily tilting his head towards the secure hand.

“I-I... I don’t want to l-lose him, Da...”

“Lose who?”

“L-Lex.”

“Alex? Why would you ever lose him?”

“‘Cause y-you guys won’t let him s-stay...”

“Why ever not?”

“H-He’s Jim and Sebastian’s son...”

Sherlock ceased to reply after that. Hamish whined, pulling himself away from Sherlock, as much as he was allowed to, given Sherlock’s unmoving grip on him.

“Point proven.” he huffed.

“No, love, I was just surprised. I didn’t even know they had a child, honestly.”

“Children.”

“Bed pardon?”

“They have children together. Like, more than one. He has two little sisters. Twins. Lucy and Annabelle.”

“Oh. Well, that’s certainly something.”

“Just tell me to end it with him. Don’t give me hope. It’s mean.”

“No one said we were going to refuse him.”

“What?”

“I happen to like him, Jim’s kid or not. He’s polite and funny and God, does he love you. Once you ran off, we had to hold him down. He’s quite strong.”

“He played rugby.”

“You really like him, don’t you?”

“I love him, Da. I love so much, it hurts just thinking of how much my heart aches for him. It’s like how you felt about Papa, before you got together.”

“Well, if that’s true, then who am I to reject such a relationship? I’ll welcome him into our family happily, and I just know Papa will too. Come on, they’re probably losing their heads, searching for you like that.”

“You promise you’re not going to make me leave him?”

“I promise, Hamish, with all I am, and all I have.”

Hamish giggled at the poetic vow, and allowed Sherlock to lift him to his feet, snuggling into the sturdy arm draped over his shoulder.

Sherlock called out for John and Alex, failing to mention his discovery of Hamish. Alex’s eyes, dilated with adrenaline, went big in astonishment, his legs processing the visual quicker than his mind. He wound his arms around Hamish’s lithe frame, who leaned into him gladly, the brunet’s arms tight around Alex’s neck. The blond, however, was pressing kisses everywhere his lips met skin; cheeks, lips, nose, forehead, temples, neck, simply everywhere.

“Oh, Misha, you’re safe, thank God,”

“Lex, loosen up, I can’t breathe.” he whimpered, chewing at his lower lip.

“Ah, right, yeah, sorry,” Alex pressed their forehead together, and eased his intensive hold on Hamish’s middle.

“You okay?” Hamish inquired, chary.

“Of course I am, you’re safe, Misha.” Alex’s voice cracked at a certain point in the sentence, but it was Hamish who felt like he had been split in half.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s fine.”

Hamish stalled, before his hands slithered to Alex’s front, and upwards to cradle Alex’s cheeks in his palms, yanking him in for a firm kiss, his eyes squeezed shut.

“I was so scared. I’m so sorry. I didn’t talk to you. I lied to you. I’m sorry, Lex, I’m so, so sorry,” he rattled on, as they tore themselves apart from each other, hearts leaping in triumph. Alex kissed him again, shutting him up nicely.

“Boys,” John began, his fingers entwining with Sherlock’s, as he chuckled to their desperate attempts at apology. They shyly dropped their heads, and glimpsed at the two older men.

“Alex,”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’d be very happy to have you as a part of our family. You love my son, and care for him, in ways I, unfortunately, cannot. So, keep it up, all right? We like you. We’d like you to stick around.”

“Yes, definitely, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Call me John.”

Alex giggled, briefly nuzzling his nose to Hamish’s hair.

“See, babe? I told you it’d go well.”

“You’re not always right, you know!”

“Yeah, but I was this time.”

“Shut it.”

“No way. I like getting you riled up. You snog better.”

“Alexander Moran-Moriarty! Don’t you talk about us snogging in front of my _parents_!” Hamish chastised, swatting the back of Alex’s head.

“Ow! Misha, stop it!” Alex squirmed, complaining playfully.

“Don’t be such a moron, then.”

John tipped his head up, and whispered in Sherlock’s ear, “He’s just like you.”

“Which one?”

“Alex, obviously.”

“Yes, I suppose we do have similar qualities.”

“They’re so cute toget—Ah, Hamish, no punching!—together. Don’t you think so?”

“Mm, certainly. They’re a good match. Just like us.”

“I’m kind of glad he likes blokes. I just can’t see him with a girl.”

“Neither can I.”

“I hope they last.”

“They will.”

“How do you know?”

“If we did, and Jim and Sebastian did too, how could they not?”

“Good point, love.”

“Shall we get them home? It’s getting dark.”

“Yeah, we probably should. I want to snuggle with you anyhow.”

“Then we shall snuggle, once we get Alex home, and retire to bed.”

“Sounds perfect. Boys!”

The two lads halted, before a fit of laughter captured their attention.

“Boys, stop laughing, come on.”

“S-Sorry, Papa,” Hamish mumbled gleefully, after soothing his incessant chuckling.

“We need to get Alex home.”

Hamish’s eyes went big, before a small sound of understanding escaped him.

“We never told them, did we?”

“Tell us what?”

“Alex needs a place to stay for the weekend. Jim and Seb took the girls on a trip, and they don’t want him to be alone in the house.”

“And why didn’t you go too, Alex?”

“I wanted to spend my weekend with Hamish. There were so many exams this week, so I couldn’t see him at all. I wanted to have my spare time be with him.”

John contemplated, before looking to Sherlock, who nodded in approval.

“All right. You can stay with Hamish. Just, we don’t want to hear anything, okay?”

“Papa!”

“It’s just protocol, love.”

“It’s embarrassing, is what it is! We’ve never shagged before!”

“You haven’t? Good heavens, how do you two spend your time together, then?”

“We go on dates. All the time. We cook each other dinner, make each other flower crowns, watch the clouds and stars, you know, couple things!”

Alex was howling with laughter, which only earned him another hit.

“It’s not funny!”

“It is, though! You’re so cute whenever anyone mentions sex! You get all red in the face! It’s darling.”

“You’re such a major cock, you know.”

“I have one, yes, but I am not one, no.”

“Oh, how snarky. I really like him, John.”

“Da!”

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“You’re not sorry if you’re laughing!”

“Am I? Oh, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Why must I live with and love such sarcastic arses?”

John shot him a sympathetic smile.

“Hey, at least you’re not married to Sherlock Holmes.”

“At least I’m not married to Mycroft Holmes.” Hamish shrugged wickedly, grinning to his Da.

“Oh! That’s my boy! Mind if I quote you on that?”

“Sherlock! Be polite! Hamish, don’t insult your uncle.”

“But—”

“No. You’re only allowed to do that when he’s around.”

“You two are so bloody devious, no wonder you got married.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Until I get in trouble with Uncle Myc, yes.”

A heavy, low crack in the sky startled them all tremendously.

“Shit, it’s going to pour. Come on, lads, let’s get home.” John ushered them over, and directed his three boys towards the pavement surrounding the little abandoned landscape. A drizzle of droplets tapped their shoulders, but they managed to fit themselves into a cab, before anything outrageous occurred.

“So, do you guys do breakfast?” Alex questioned John.

“We have a traditional Sunday brunch, but not much else. Why do you ask?”

“Can I make you three breakfast tomorrow?”

“Why would you do that?” Sherlock inquired from the passenger seat up front.

“Father always makes breakfast on weekends. We love it. ‘Sides, Misha loves when I cook for him.”

“It is quite good, I must admit.”

“Then, of course. Thank you, Alex. Impress us.”

“Certainly, John.”

Hamish, nudged by John, allowed his head to rest upon Alex’s shoulder, and his eyelids drooped, fluttering shut to the eloquent euphony Alex’s heartbeat, languorous and steady. Alex wasn’t too far behind, and soon had his own head resting against Hamish’s, breathing out little, even puffs.

This is what Hamish wanted. What he needed. The desire to be loved, and know his love was accepted, this was it. He felt calm. All the white noise seeped away. It was just Alex, solid and just. He knew Alex wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t abandon Hamish. He’d keep him safe. He’d give Hamish love and a family and everything they’ve always dreamed of.

After being honest with his family and his absolute love, he was finally able to be honest with himself. And that, that was good. **  
**


End file.
